A Mage Of None Magic (Book 1)

by A. Christopher Drown

  Niel rubbed his hands between his knees, wanting nothing more than to bolt through the door, find his way home, and crawl into bed.

  According to legend, the Dragon Sisters shattered their Heart hoping that humankind would one day heal it and in turn destroy itself. If the Heart was real, who could say healing it would result in anything less than exactly what the Sisters desired?

  A strange urgency came over him.

  A single magician possessing nearly the entire Heart was not only terrifying—a wild understatement—but it also carried a sense of obscenity; a sense of being personally wronged.

  He raised his head to meet the faces of everyone else in the room.

  “That cannot happen,” Niel said

  Lleryth turned to Arwin. “That is what this has to do with you. Someone very dangerous and very capable is trying to mend the Heart. She must be stopped, and that will sooner or later directly involve Niel.”

  “Wait,” Jharal said. “If we’re thinking Uhniethi might still be alive, and he’s got the rest of the Heart, why don’t we let him deal with this Magistrate? Like he’s going to just let someone take the Heart from him after a thousand years.”

  “Because Uhniethi is a possibility,” Lleryth replied. “She is a definite.”

  “Does this ‘she’ have a name?” Arwin asked.

  “Her name is Ennalen.”

  “Surely Niel will gain some benefit from having his own piece of the Heart,” Arwin said. “Couldn’t he use it to protect himself, or at least hide?”

  Lleryth frowned. “I’m afraid it’s also possible Ennalen may already have a good idea who and where Niel is. If so, she likely has dispatched at least one other to find him.”

  “Then can’t you protect him?” Jharal snapped.

  “No,” Lleryth said. “Not in the manner you’re meaning.”

  “Why would she have any interest in me?” Niel asked.

  “Ennalen believes she is the Apostate,” Lleryth said. “Whether this is because Uhniethi left her an indication such as he did with you, or simply because she is mad, we cannot say. The reasons behind what she is doing have little bearing on the fact that she must be prevented from doing it.”

  “And just how do you propose we do that?” Jharal asked angrily.

  Lleryth gave a thin smile. “By seeking out where the great divide has yet to begin.”

  After a brief, befuddled stare, Jharal scoffed. “Right. Sure. Why didn’t I think of that.”

  “What does that mean?” Cally asked.

  “It’s what the statue told me when I took the stone from its hand,” Niel said.

  “The Peridehn Mountains are the starting point for what you call the Black Wall,” Lleryth explained. “There the remainder of the Heart lies, and it is there you must go to prevent Ennalen from obtaining it.”

  “That’s in northern Lyrria,” Arwin said. “It would take weeks on horseback. There’s no way for us to get there in time, particularly if Ennalen has a head start.”

  “We’ve... managed to buy a little time,” Lleryth answered. “But only a little. Thus, a suitable method of transportation has been arranged.”

  Arwin sat quietly in thought, looking first at Lleryth, then for several long moments at Niel, then raising a questioning eyebrow at Cally.

  “I don’t believe this,” Cally muttered as she shook her head.

  Lleryth shuffled rather than floated to the door.

  “You no doubt have much you wish to discuss. We shall take our leave and give you privacy. I ask you to trust that in this room you may speak freely. No one will hear anything you say.”

  When he reached the doorway, Lleryth turned once more to face the group while Riahnn and Briajl continued out. “I also ask you to trust that alone or not, all that is to come is not something Niel will be able to avoid. As will none of us, should he fail.”

  Lleryth bowed then stepped outside. The door closed on its own behind him.

  For a long while, no one said a word.

  Finally, Peck spoke. “Arwin?”

  The swordsman raised both eyebrows.

  “The next time you decide to go out and find us a magician, be sure to let me know so I can find a dull knife and cut off my own head.”

  There followed a collective exhalation—far from laughter, but nonetheless a breaking of tension that let the conversation get underway.

  “Or better yet,” Niel said bleakly, “chop off the magician’s head and spare him and everyone else some grief.”

  Arwin chuckled.

  Cally got up from her place at the table. “Do you think this is a joke?”

  “On the contrary,” Arwin replied. “Were I to be perfectly honest, I’d say I’ve never been more frightened in my life, thank you.”

  Caught off guard by Arwin’s candor, Cally turned on her heel and began to pace.

  “But,” he continued, “if we’re to believe even some of what Lleryth tells us, we have little say about our involvement in this. Niel?”

  Niel looked over.

  “Do you trust our host?”

  Niel searched the smooth, wooden floor. “Yes, I do.”

  “As do I,” Arwin agreed, somberly. “So we’re going to have to assume we are all now happy players in something of serious consequence to every living soul in the Lands.”

  “Or the world,” Jharal grumbled.

  “Please,” Arwin said with a smirk, “let’s try to keep things to as small of an impossible situation as we can, eh?”

  Cally walked back to the table, kicked a pillow out of the way, and sat.

  “All right,” she said, “so a Magistrate with nothing better to do gets the urge to heal the Heart of the Sisters. Then what? I mean, I want to know where Uhniethi fits in, because I’m with Arwin—the idea of him still creeping around scares the piss out of me.”

  “If I recall,” Arwin said, “he caused the Devastation by exploring forbidden magic. Maybe he found part of the Heart long before leaving for Talmoor.”

  “Seems to me if he’s got that big a blade to swing,” Jharal added, “then he’d have used it. You don’t wipe half the College from the map because you’re a wee bit miffed. Why hole himself up for a thousand years instead of finishing what he started?”

  “Maybe there are consequences to having a cantle for so long that kept him from doing just that,” Niel answered. “Then again, maybe he really is dead.”

  “Or,” Peck said, looking over at Niel, “he’s luring you and Ennalen in for reasons only he knows.”

  A chill descended on the room.

  “I wish you’d stop saying things like that to me,” Niel muttered.

  Peck held up his hands. “Hey, you’re the one Lleryth’s wooden friend mentioned during the little puppet show Uhniethi left behind. I’m only putting two and two together.”

  Niel glared back in reply.

  “I think it comes down to this,” Arwin said. “Like it or not, we’ve stumbled into the path of something bigger and more important than any of us has even dreamed about facing. And it seems Niel, Apostate or not, is smack dab in the middle of it. As far as I’m concerned, that means we’re all smack dab in the middle of it.”

  He stood. “Part of me wants to apologize for my hand in getting us into this. But I’d be lying if I said another part of me wasn’t grateful for the chance to turn something small and tedious into something worthwhile. So I pledge myself to the aid and protection of our friend, Niel, and to the completion of this task.”

  A long silence ensued.

  Niel looked around at his companions, having no idea what would happen next.

  Cally stood. “As do I,” she said.

  Jharal sighed and joined her. “As do I.”

  Peck stood as well, shrugging his shoulders. “Why not.”

  Finally, Niel stood with them.

  “If this is all truly hinged on me, then I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said, sounding to himself as clumsy and stupid as he felt. “I wish I knew what to say
other than ‘thank you.’”

  Peck turned away to continue browsing the room. “How about, ‘Please accept my deepest apologies that Jorgan didn’t throw me off the boat.’”

  ***

  He tried to pay attention to the conversation, but Niel’s mind kept straying back to a distressful and morbidly exhilarating thought: Someone out there wanted to kill him.

  Lleryth, Riahnn and Briajl returned to discuss with the group what would be needed in the way of additional supplies once their equipment had been restored to them. Although, Lleryth and Briajl did the discussing; Riahnn did little but stand nearby and aim a steady, hateful scowl in Niel’s direction.

  “I’ve arranged for you to meet a Professor Ignalius Potchkins,” Lleryth told them, “formerly of Fraal University. He has means to get you back to Lyrria within the time we have.”

  “What means would that be?” Jharal asked.

  “I’m sorry, but the professor’s response said only that he had the ability, but did not specify. I do not wish to seem unforthcoming, but what matters most is that he was called upon to help and has agreed to do so.”

  Jharal tossed his hands in exasperation, but didn’t pursue the matter.

  Niel had to admit an eager interest to see how the professor would accomplish the feat. He couldn’t imagine it being done magically—magic on that scale resided only amongst the upper reaches of the College. Yet, he couldn’t imagine it not being done magically.

  He sighed, realizing he would just have to wait and see—and once again felt the abrasive weight of Riahnn’s glare.

  “All right then,” Arwin said. “So Briajl and Riahnn will escort us to the southern edge of the Forest. From there we’ll continue on to Glernny and find this professor.”

  Glernny lay at the bottom edge of the Galiiantha territories—a tiny region in southern Aithiq long known as a refuge for scholars, artists, and other intellectuals whose beliefs or subjects of study conflicted with the rules held in place by either the aristocracy, the College, or both. In fact, where Niel lived, commonfolk used gone to Glernny as an expression for someone either missing or insane. He wondered which of the two would best describe him in the days to come.

  “Does anyone have anything else to add?” Arwin asked.

  “Yes,” Niel said, yielding to irritation. “I do.”

  All eyes focused on him, making Niel question the wisdom of opening his mouth. “I am truly grateful to the good folk of Chael for their help,” he said. Then he pointed at Riahnn, “but I will not leave until I know the reason for her anger toward us. Or, I should say, toward me.”

  Niel held his gaze, but saw from the corner of his eye the concerned looks of his companions, as though he had thrown a rock at the wolves they all thought had safely passed them by.

  Carrying the metaphor further, Riahnn bared her teeth.

  Lleryth shook his head. “As I had said, we’ve not the time for that. There are far more pressing—”

  “Forgive me, Keeper,” Riahnn blurted as she stepped forward, “but I will not let this lie.”

  “Riahnn…” Briajl said.

  “No!” she snapped over her shoulder, then fixed her eyes again upon Niel. “We have suffered harm and it must be redressed.”

  Niel gave a small shrug of incomprehension. “How—?”

  The image of a face stole his words—misshapen by agony, burning in the brilliant blue-white of the spell he had inadvertently cast in the tunnels. Only the vision had been much more than mere memory, and the recollection so unexpected, so vivid that Niel squinted in pain and turned his head away, holding his arms over his face to protect him from the excruciating blaze of light.

  The image vanished, replaced by the curious stares of everyone in the room.

  Everyone but Lleryth, who wore a mask of bemused interest.

  “It shouldn’t have burned him,” Niel whispered. He looked at Lleryth. “The man, the one I hurt with my spell. Is he alive?”

  “He lives,” Lleryth replied.

  “You call that alive,” Riahnn spat. She leveled an accusing finger at Niel. “His name is Evahn, my kinsman. He was a master archer, a poet with his bow, until your magic blinded him. He can never again hunt to feed his children. He can never again defend his people.” Her hand dropped to the delicate-looking sword she wore and clenched the hilt. “You came here to our home, violated our most sacred ground, and took away the worth of his life. I demand the chance to return the deed in kind, as is our way.”

  Niel stood, mute with shame.

  Arwin stepped between them. “In that case, address your grievance to me.”

  “No,” she said, again suspicious. “You said you follow him.”

  “I also told you I speak for him. I will answer whatever challenge—”

  “That is enough,” Lleryth said. “Riahnn, you will observe the place I have given you in these matters, or I will dismiss you from my service altogether. How well do you think your family would welcome that news?”

  A defiant Riahnn raised her chin and met Lleryth’s eyes.

  “I’ll not tell you again,” he said.

  With smoldering reluctance, she resumed her spot behind him.

  Arwin shook his head, clearly not satisfied. “With respect, I know something of duty to one’s family, and I understand Riahnn’s desire to make things right by hers. My companions and I are indebted to the Galiiantha for providing us food, shelter, and help in preparing for what are surely dark days ahead.” He faced Riahnn. “As thanks, and in appreciation of the strength it took to yield as you did just now, when these matters have been settled I promise to make right whatever wrongs we’ve caused you and your family.”

  “Arwin…” Cally whispered with harsh disbelief.

  Arwin held up his hand to forestall any further dissent.

  Riahnn cocked her head, considering the outsiders with scornful uncertainty.

  “No,” she said. “You will leave here, and you will not come back.”

  Arwin smiled. “Then that will mean I am dead, in which case you’ll have gotten what you likely want anyway. But you do have my word of honor. If I’m able, I’ll return.”

  Niel had difficulty deciding which surprised him more—Arwin’s offer, or that Riahnn had nothing more to say. She nodded at Arwin with an expression he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

  “If we’re quite done,” Lleryth said, with more than a hint of disapproval, “may we proceed?”

  “Absolutely,” Peck answered as though someone had suggested another round at the Funny Gus, “because you know how thousand-year-old sorcerers and power-crazed Magistrates hate to be kept waiting.”

  ***

  Of the group, Jharal was clearly the happiest to have his belongings returned.

  Niel tried not to pay too much mind, but the manner in which Jharal caressed and whispered to his battle axe left him unsettled. Even having his spell book back had not affected him as deeply. In fact, for a while, he’d forgotten all about it.

  As the others went over their own equipment and the provisions supplied by the Galiiantha, Lleryth and Niel headed to where the group’s horses were gathered.

  “It’s a shame you use these magnificent creatures for common labor,” Lleryth said, a touch of humor in his voice. “I think were you to see them wild in the Upper Valleys, you’d never want to fetter one in such a way again.”

  Niel smiled and glanced to where Briajl and Riahnn sat atop their giant stags. “I feel the same about your people’s choice of mount.”

  Lleryth gave one of the horses a gentle pat on its neck. “Difficult times are to come, my boy. I do wish there’d been opportunity to instruct you in some of our ways. I think you would have found it helpful.”

  For the first time in his life, Niel felt intrigued by the idea of learning about magic outside Canon. He knew of nothing witnessed in his time with the Galiiantha that would let him dismiss their ways out of hand. Then he wondered whether the sentiment had anything to do with the fragment o
f gemstone hanging in a pouch around his neck.

  “Lleryth, what was the magic Uhniethi sought when he came here?”

  “That’s been a matter of speculation for a long, long while. No one who would have known survived that day to tell anyone.”

  Niel frowned. “No rumors survived either? No one’s arrived at a solid theory, or even a best guess?”

  “Speculation is often a pointless undertaking. We didn’t have what he wanted, so he left. There is a poem, though, I recall that spoke to what Uhniethi hoped to accomplish—that gathering a flower’s petals after a wind storm, and reassembling them in precisely their correct order, would have been simple by comparison.”

  The answer left Niel less than satisfied.

  “Tell me,” Lleryth said, “when you were discussing Evahn earlier, you reacted as if you’d seen something. What was it?”

  “On my honor, Lleryth,” Niel said, “my spell called for fire without heat. It should not have burned. I never meant to harm him, but it had been so dark, and—”

  Lleryth made a shushing motion with his hands. “I know, child. As do the others. Riahnn and Evahn have been inseparable since before they could walk. She needs time, is all. But tell me, what did you see there, back in my study?”

  Niel focused. “I more than saw. I felt it. Right then I thought it was Evahn’s face that burned… but then it was me, as if the light came from my face.” He exhaled heavily and blinked several times as though emerging from a dream. “It seemed so real.”

  Lleryth pointed at Niel’s chest. “Empathy of that sort was also my first experience from being with the stone. Quite compelling, don’t you agree? For me it took years, though, not the scant few hours it has taken you.”

  Niel slipped the pouch out from beneath his tunic. “So what does that mean?”

  “Again, I’m not certain. Granted, I was not allowed to be as close to the stone as you, but I think that makes little difference. I would say your vision of Evahn suggests an intuitive awareness, one not entirely dependent on the stone given the intensity of your spell. A spell that should not have burned, but did.”